direction again, watching as Becca valiantly attempts to placate her, despite how she’s jabbing her index finger right in Becca’s face.
My face screws up in confusion—and distaste. “Then what the hell is she doing here?”
“She’s getting her way,” Kenzie replies. “She might hate this place, but her kid loves football. And that guy on the end, number eighty-four? That’s the kid’s favorite receiver. Haley Lacrosse isn’t above using her money and connections to pull a few strings with our team’s general manager so she can get her kid a private meet-and-greet. If that has to happen here, she doesn’t care, so long as she gets what she wants.”
I’m not sure whether to be impressed or horrified. It takes guts to show up somewhere and pretend—for however long it serves your interests—that you aren’t actively trying to end that place’s very existence. Haley Lacrosse is the worst kind of enemy to have: someone who’s in love with outrage, doesn’t mind talking out both sides of their mouth, and has money to spend.
Apparently, I’m not the Wellses’ only nuisance. In fact, in comparison to Haley Lacrosse, I’m a considerate nuisance. At least I’m trying to give them something in exchange for annoying them—like a big fat check. Haley Lacrosse wants to shut their entire business down without so much as an apology.
This new piece of info explains a lot about what’s going on around here and why Sage is always on the edge of losing her cool. If I were in Sage’s position, I’d have a short fuse too. They aren’t just trying to revive a dying business here, they’re also trying to defeat their own personal Goliath.
But I’m not in Sage’s position. I’m someone whose goals, unfortunately, align with Haley’s. I wish that wasn’t the case, because after just five minutes of observation, I already know that I’m not interested in throwing in with someone like her. Even if doing so might get us both what we want, which is for the Rocky Mile Raceway to close its doors and for Mason Enterprises to build out a retail center where Haley will be able to buy a pumpkin spice latte on her way home from Endeavor Sporting Goods and then stop by another big-box store where she can buy all sorts of stuff to fill up that big, boring house of hers.
That is, after all, the goal here. Unfortunately, picturing that leaves me with a sour feeling in my stomach when I think about it.
Becca glides back over, smiling until she makes it to the table. Then her grin fades into a scowl. She mutters a few colorful words under her breath before rubbing the tips of her fingers over her temples.
“I promised her ten more minutes and then she’s done,” Becca says. “And she’s going to write checks to the charities. Checks with lots of zeros.”
Kenzie stands up dejectedly, like she’s about to walk the plank and knows there’s nothing she can do about it. Becca drops back into her chair. I decide to keep quiet for the moment, giving her some space to decompress. After a few minutes, she turns my way and sighs.
“You know what I hate? The way having money can sometimes make it okay to act like a terrible person.”
I nod. I can’t be sure who she’s talking about though—me, my family, Haley, or someone else entirely. We sit in silence, watching as Kenzie somehow deals with all of Haley’s instructions without whacking the woman in the head with her big camera. Even the players look like their patience is wearing thin, but they’re pros who regularly deal with demanding coaches, irate fans, and smarmy sports reporters, so I’m assuming they know how to keep their thoughts to themselves when it counts.
I clear my throat, deciding that a change of topic might be what’s needed right now.
“This must be great exposure for the track, right? All these pictures posted on social with local athletes? Those will get reposted a lot.”
Becca shakes her head. “We don’t post anything. Not for this. We try to make this all about the kids’ experience, not just some excuse for a photo op. The players like it that way too. They spend enough time on camera as it is.”
I raise my brows in surprise. It’s an admirable endeavor, but I don’t know that they're in a place to be choosy about what kind of PR they want to indulge in.
“Seriously? Do they realize how beneficial this could be?”
Becca shrugs. “Sure. Well,